the boy on the moon
by The Lady Avaritia
Summary: Itachi likes to do work fast. He never knows when he's going to be home. And Sasuke... he just stares at the moon all night long. Until niisan comes to tuck him in. -childhood fluff-


A soft wind blew from the forest and towards Konoha, rustling the green leaves and scenting the warm summer air with the smell of greenery and ripe blooming plants. The village had fallen into a stillness characteristic of the heated nights in the middle of summer. The lights were out in most households, and restaurants and entertainment establishments were closing down, the streets only echoing with the laughter of the last drunk and cheery patrons.  
The Nakano river was sloshing lazily, the murky water splashing against the dry cracked shore, like the half-hearted caress of a tired lover. The lights of the Uchiha district reflected in the silky surface were dimming slowly one after the other, until the only lamp that remained on was in house of the clanhead.  
An eight year old Sasuke Uchiha was huddling in his bed, arms wrapped around his favorite toy- a soft stuffed weasel with large red buttons sewn in its eyeholes and an Uchiha crest lovingly embroided on its back. Sasuke was stating with wide dark eyes at the room, until he heard his mother's footsteps down the hall. He flipped the light switch quickly, and buried himself under the blankets, cuddling the weasel tight to his chest and stifling his breath. The door opened. His mother peered in. The door closed. Sasuke flipped the covers off his small frame and sat up again, nuzzling his toy, huge charcoal eyes focused intently on the window.  
-x-  
Huge beads of swear rolled down Itachi Uchiha's sharp face beneath the heavy cold porcelain of his ANBU mask. His palms were sweaty in the thin black gloves. His lean lithe body dashed though the still melting hot air, and landed with deadly accuracy on a branch. he raised a thin graceful hand, signaling to his team. He heard the light thuds behind him as they assumed positions as well. A man whose chakra signature he recognized as Kakashi's was right beside him. Itachi's eyes glowed an intense demonically red color from the eyeholes of his mask, as if he had burning coals imbed in his face. He made a sign for silence and gestured to the small clearing below them.  
Only the light wind disturbed the still, silent forest. The quiet deadly killers from ANBU were prepared to wait all night if they must.  
Sweat rolled down Itachi's neck, soaking his long dark hair, and making his thin black shirt stick to his skin under the light armor. Every sense of his was on high alert. His lithe deadly muscles were coiled beneath his moonlight pale skin. His eyes were scanning the area, his thin dry lips pressed together in a grim line under the mask. His head perked at a light sound that disturbed the stillness of the night. He jerked his head sharply downwards. Faint rustling of leaves alerted him to the readiness of his squad-mates. He reached a hand to draw his sword, the thin sharp edge gleaming wickedly in the moonlight. The sound of the cold metal scraping the side of the sheath was only barely audible, masked by the sounds of a heavily armed group stapling in the clearing, tramping the grass like bulls in a china shop. Itachi's team descended on them like a murder of crows descends on the cadaver of an emaciated cow in a year of famine.  
Itachi swung his katana in a deadly graceful arc, and a spray of hot blood splashed on the pristine white of his mask, staining the porcelain, Itachi's pale shoulder and his arm. His gaze seemed to have doubled in intensity, the tome pattern spinning wildly in the crimson irises. The squad finishes their dirty business quickly, in utter silence and with ease. Their dark graceful shadows seem like they are dancing in the silvery light of the moon. Itachi walks across the clearing to where the leader of the slain group is and bends down to search him with quick sharp clever fingers. His long nimble digits curl tightly around the scroll and he pulls it out carefully from the blood-soaked vest of the man. He pockets it with a small satisfied smirk hidden behind the cold faceless mask, and rises to his full height, raising a hand and gesturing for his squad to pull out and leave.  
Five shadows shoot up through the trees. Itachi opens a speed that many would find difficult to follow, his body seemingly never once touching a tree branch. Only Kakashi manages to keep up sufficiently, as the young captain dashes though the air. No one complains. Everyone wants to get out of the oppressive heat and in their nice air-conditioned apartments. They land in front of the Konoha gates with soft inaudible thids, scattering some dust. Iachi raises a pretty delicate black-clad hand to brush his bangs out of his eyes, as they stride in though the gates. He signs the half-sleeping guard. They shuffle unenthusiastically through the village. The mission is over, the adrenalin is slowly leaving their systems, and they're just a bunch of exhausted, overheated men who'd rather lounge on uncomfortable springy couches, drink crap cheap sake and watch poor TV.

They don't say goodbye or goodnight or see you tomorrow as they slowly melt into their shadows, each to their own home. Itachi is the last one, walking silently, ponderously to the Uchiha district. He's already composing his report in his head. He'll write it out first thing in the morning. He swings over the tall wall surrounding the district because it seems easier then walking an additional ten steps though the gate. He passes by Shisui's house, and climbs up to peer though the window. Shisui is half naked in his messy bad, surrounded by cans of cheap sake, and snoring like an industrial facility. It makes Itachi smile softly, fondly. Instead of sliding down, he climbs up further and continues his walk home over the rooftops, looking down on the district. He knows each house, who lives in it, what they are doing, their names, their birthdays… If anyone knew as much as him, they could easily kill the whole family in one night. He reaches the house where he lives. He wonders if he should go though the front door, but figures that it would raise too much noise. Instead he drops down the windowsill of his favorite room and perches on it. The window does not disappoint. It's wide open and a pair of wide dark eyes framed by thick long lashes is staring at him from literally a hand away. Itachi quickly crawls in, stepping gracefully on the soft rug, and takes his mask off, hanging it at his hip. His beautiful face breaks into an uncontrollable grin.

"Good evening, otouto. Someone is out of bed early."

Sasuke smiles bashfully lowering his lashes. It's the most adorable thing in the world.

"I can't sleep unless you tuck me in," he murmurs sweetly. Itachi feels his heart swell.

"Come on then, let's get you to bed. You don't want to be sleepy in your classes in the academy tomorrow, do you?"

Sasuke smiles though a yawn.

"Naw," he says softly.

"Good."

Itachi picks his light tiny body up effortlessly. Sasuke doesn't mind that niisan is covered in drying warm blood that smells icky, because under the bad smell, there's still the scent of Itachi's favorite shampoo, and the crisp pleasing hint of the detergent mother uses on the laundry. The older brother carries the small boy to the messy bed and lays him down between the soft covers gently. The whole time, Sasuke hasn't let go of his toy.

Itachi fusses over the sheets, straightening them out, and pulls the blanket over Sasuke. "Weasel-chan will keep you safe, right?" he asks with a soft smile, indicating the stuffed animal with his eyes.

"Uh-huh!" Sasuke nods enthusiastically.

Itachi chuckles. "You keep hugging it like that, and you'll completely squish the life out of that weasel."

He leans down to kiss the pretty child on both soft round cheeks and then his nose, and his forehead. His long silky ponytail tickles Sasuke's neck, and he giggles a little breathlessly. Itachi laughs lightly as well, and nuzzles the boy's neck. Sasuke's soft skin smells sweetly of … him. Just… the nice clean smell that is Sasuke. Itachi wants to wrap his arms around the soft warm body, but he's afraid of getting blood on his brother. It's a miracle he didn't stain him while carrying him to bed.

"How kiss Weasel-chan too," Sasuke orders strictly and with a small smile Itachi presses his thin chalky lips to the soft fur of the toy. He is surprised when he feels Sasuke's soft full lips pressing against his cheek gently.

"Niisan," says the boy with a happy sleepy smile.

"Otouto," Itachi replies, with all the warmth and love he can put in one word. "Sleep well. I'll see you at breakfast."

"Yeah," Sasuke murmurs sleepily, and buries his face in his toy. Itachi spares him a last loving look and walks out the room, closing the door silently behind him.

The last thing Sasuke hears before falling asleep is niisan humming to himself in the shower.

"Weasel-chan," he says softly to the toy. "Niisan really can't sing, can he?"

The stuffed pet wisely remains silent.


End file.
